A/N: Here's the next chapter! Sorry this one's kind of short and there's no Erik in here so sorry about that! Don't worry though, there will be plenty of Erik in the chapters to come.
I also wanted to update this story because I wanted to let you all know that I started ANOTHER phantom of the opera fanfic! It's called "Phantoms" (i know, creative right?) and I already have the first two chapters up! So, please go check it out and let me know your thoughts on it! I'll put a description in the A/N at the bottom.
Please don't forget to favourite follow, and review!
"Oh, Destin! You shouldn't have!" I half-whined to my friend as he pushed a pastry and a warm mug of tea into my hands.
I was sat on a bench about three blocks from Destin's small apartment, though I thought he was working at the Butcher's shop, so I didn't bother visiting him.
"Shouldn't you be at work?" I asked, taking a rather large bite of the flakey pastry.
He chuckled before he sat next to me on the chipped bench. "I took a break." He said simply, taking a deep breath. "Speaking of work…" He trailed off, raising his eyebrow at me. Unfortunately I knew where he was going with this conversation.
"No, Destin. I'm not going to work for you," I said solidly.
"You wouldn't be working for me, you'd be working with me," Destin explained simply, folding his hands in his lap.
"It doesn't matter. Either way I would have to kill animals," I grumbled into my mug tea, which was growing empty. Why did Destin walk three blocks with a hot cup of tea?
"You don't have to kill them if you don't want to, you could just sell the meat. It's quite simple, really."
"But that's still cutting up an animal. How does that not freak you out?" I said, letting the mug rest in my lap.
"Charlotte, you eat meat. You love it. And since when are you afraid stuff like that?" He teased.
"It's not the same," I muttered, bringing the mug back to my lips.
There was a comfortable few minutes of silence, where the both of us were left to our own thoughts. I thought about working: what would it be like? No one would hire me because they know I'm "homeless". Besides, my only real talent is art, and no one would buy my sketches.
I decided this would be a nice time to pull out my sketchbook, so I did so, finding my blunt piece of charcoal lying, waiting for me, atop the book itself. A piece of loose paper that I had jammed in-between the pages caught the slow breeze and it quickly floated to the ground. It was a page from my mother's sketchbook. The page landed on the other side of Destin, so I expected him to casually reach down and return the page to me, but instead, he only reached down and stared at it while I patiently held my hand out.
He looked shocked and confused and worried all at once.
"Are you alright, Destin?" I asked, concern knitting itself into my brow.
The disarming emotions immediately left Destin's face, and were replaced with an almost relieved look.
"Yeah, sorry." He handed me the page, and I looked down at it once more before jamming it back into my own sketchbook. "Do you know who that is?" He asked.
The page had a light sketch of a bony looking man. He had a longer face, and sharp cheekbones while his eyes sunk into their sockets. Although he sounded scary and horrifying, he was quite handsome in his own way.
"I think he's my father." I said, looking down at my sketchbook as if he was there staring back up at me. Destin gave me a puzzled look. "My mother drew him a lot towards the beginning of her sketchbook, but there became less and less drawings. My mother had told me once that my father left when he learned she was pregnant with me, and so she never saw him again." I explained.
"Oh, Charlotte, I'm sorry" Destin wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
"It's alright. I never really knew him enough to care about him all that much." I shrugged off the thought.
"Well… Would you ever consider looking for your father?" Destin asked.
I let out a sarcastic laugh, thinking that he was joking but then I saw that he was serious with this suggestion. Why would I look for a father that abandoned my mother, and left her to live and die in the streets? If he stayed or at least helped her, maybe she wouldn't have lost her home, or fallen ill, and maybe she would still be alive. We would be living in an actual house, eating actual food, and living actual lives.
I let out another bitter laugh at the thought. I wouldn't explain this to Destin; he wouldn't understand. I just pushed the now empty mug back into his hands, muttered a quick "thanks," and left.
A/N: Ohhhh, some defensiveness from Charlotte... So, what did you guys think? PLEASE let me know in the reviews! I absolutely LOVE hearing from you guys!
Also, if you didn't read the first author's note, I started another POTO fanfic! It's called "Phantoms" and the first two chapters are posted!
Description for Phantoms: Erik is only just recovering from being left by Christine when he notices that he's not the only one haunting the Opera House...
ok so i'm really bad at writing descriptions basically Erik finds this random girl in the opera house that seems to be doing his job for him and he's like what the hell (but i also have the story in the romance genre so...) but please do check it out! i even attempt to write from Eriks perspective!
Thank you all so much! And don't forget to favourite follow, and leave Reviews on this chapter!